


It's Too Late

by shoujo_goddess



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoujo_goddess/pseuds/shoujo_goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them"</p>
<p>Sorry not sorry :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	It's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> "soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them"
> 
> Sorry not sorry :)

He is going to die.

Enjolras knew this truth with a wholeness of is being that rended him nearly in half. The part that was resigned to death warring with the part that wanted desperately for life. It was like having too much breath and not enough all at once. He watched the soldiers raise their guns in the hazy room above the Musain.

Enjolras closed his eyes.

"Vive la Republique! Count me in."

Enjolras opened his eyes.

' _No! No you were supposed to be safe! You were supposed to stay quiet you idiotic cynical drunkard_!' he screamed in his head. Outside he watched with a face full of pain and longing and Grantaire staggered from behind the bar. 

"Vive la Republique!"

The idealist and cynic locked eyes and neither could look away. Grantaire didn't even look away as he stumbled over the bodies of their friends to stand by his side. The soldiers looked on befuddlement in their expressions.

A nod. A mechanic moving of Enjolras' head meant to convey approval to hide his distress before he turned and spoke.

"Two at one shot."

A sharp inhale of breath, and Grantaire's hand grabbed his in a near vice-like grip. Enjolras looked over with alarm.

"Will you permit it?" whispered Grantaire.

Everything stopped.

With four simple words Grantaire had torn Enjolras' world apart. All he could think to do was smile.The mark on his upper arm burned.

 

The mark that wrote out the final words his soulmate would say to him.

Looking into the deep green fathoms of Grantaires eyes told him that the words Enjolras had spoken burned somewhere across his skin as well. He stared into the eyes of his soulmate, and Enjolras wanted to cry to scream to laugh. 

What God was so cruel as to starve its people and only allow them to find their soulmate when it was too late?

Enjolras came to an epiphany as he shakily nodded his head, and guns raised to them with their joined hands. God was a cruel joke used by those in power to keep the masses docile and unaware of their suffering. Slowly, and he imagines this is what being drunk must be like, he watched as if in a haze the look of pure adoration in the cynic's eyes.

How did he miss this?

How did he not notice the looks?

Then the world was shattered with the lightning crack of guns.

The first bullet in his body produced no pain close to the one he felt when he saw the first bullet grip Grantaire. Then he was falling backwards as more bullets hit and crowded his senses.

His vision blurred, but Enjolras tried to keep his eyes on Grantaire.

An overwhelming whiteness was flashing in his vision and in between each flash he saw each moment that he had seen Grantaire looking at him, arguing with him, laughing with the ABC, singing in the Musain after a meeting, and drinking drinking always drinking.

Anger overwhelming and whole flooded him as he felt his life slipping away. Finally he understood all the staring, all the jokes made by Bossuet. All of it came back to him in perfect clarity and the feeling of regret that overwhelmed his soul as Enjolras died was more painful than any wound he had sustained.

Suddenly to his mind sprung words spoken by Grantaire.

' _I desire to forget life._ '

Enjolras looked up at the sky of Paris as he hung from the window dying. His heartbeat slowing with each passing second, and as his body grew heavy his hand remained light where Grantaire had touched him.

Enjolras looked at the sky of the city filled with the people he had tried to save and did the one thing a dying man could think to do.

He prayed.

He prayed for a new life where he could know Grantaire. Where he could spend time with Grantaire that wasn't consumed with arguments.

A second chance.

Enjolras closed his eyes one final time.

 

 


End file.
